Lucky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series Book 6)
Chapter 9

It’s been hours since I fell asleep and even longer since Brynn went to her room, but a loud bang against the roof wakes me.

The wind is blowing hard enough that I can feel a slight draft through the boarded-up windows.

I have no doubt that by the time we wake, broken palm tree fronds and scattered debris will be everywhere along the beaches and up against every one of my neighbor’s houses.

I listen for a few seconds longer to determine if I need to go outside and check things out, but I don’t hear anything on the roof anymore. Whatever possible damage that is done will have to wait until tomorrow when it’s safer to go back outside.

I close my eyes again, when my ears perk up to a completely different noise.

It’s almost a whining sound.

Or maybe it’s more of a sob.

I pull the sheets off of me and swing my legs over the bed. I head for my door when I finally pinpoint that the sound is coming from Brynn’s room.

I knock on the door softly at first.

“Brynn, are you okay?” I ask, but she doesn’t respond.

Now that I’m standing at her door, I’m sure that the sound is coming from her room.

Maybe she’s having nightmares, and she’s not really awake.

I debate, turning back and heading to my room, but the sounds continue.

I can’t knowingly leave her like this—I won’t get any sleep.

I knock again.

“Hey, Brynn… are you okay in there?”

Still, I get no response, but the distressing sounds continue.

I check for the door to replace that she didn’t lock it.

Twisting the doorknob, I carefully push through the door slowly.

“Brynn, I’m coming in,” I warn and then open the door the rest of the way.

I replace Brynn sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, in the fetal position.

She’s holding her legs against her chest with her face buried against her knees, and she’s shaking like a leaf.

A panic attack.

I’ve seen a few in my life, and this one is unmistakable.

“Hey, you’re okay,” I say, walking quickly up to her and bending down to touch her arm.

She feels clammy, sweaty, and cold all at the same time.

“Come on, you’re coming with me,” I tell her.

She doesn’t move or nod in agreement but I can’t knowingly leave her like this.

I scoop her up under her legs and around her back and pull her up against my chest.

The second that she’s pulled against me, her arms wrap around the back of my neck and she buries her face against my shoulder.

She told me that she’d been in a bad storm before, but I wasn’t expecting her to react like this.

I carry her out of her room and bring her into mine.

“You’re going to stay with me tonight until the storm passes, Okay?” I ask.

I feel the subtle nod of her head against me.

It’s a good thing that I didn’t push her to stay next door by herself, though maybe the option to stay in the cramped apartment further inland would have been better than keeping her on the beach where we’re going to get the biggest brunt of the storm.

There’s nothing I can do about it now except to keep her close and try to soothe her out of her panic attack.

I lay her down in the middle of the bed, and then climb in behind her.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her flat against my chest.

“You’re going to be okay, Brynn,” I whisper against her ear, and rub my right hand up and down her arm in an attempt to stop her from shaking. “I swear that I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

I need some kind of answer, even if we don’t know each other long enough for her to give me that kind of trust. But I need to know she’s listening.

“Do you believe me?” I ask.

She nods, but she’s still shaking uncontrollably.

My hands continue to rub up and down her arm until her shaking starts to subside a little. After what feels like an hour of listening to the storm carry on outside while applying firm strokes against Brynn’s arm, I finally hear her breathing deepen and slow.

She fell asleep.

Thank God.

She wiggles against me, though it’s unintentional, and soon enough, her perfect ass is pressed against my crotch.

I can’t stop my cock from hardening against her with every movement she makes against me.

Each time I attempt to pull back, she follows me in her sleep and it doesn’t take long before she’s plastered against me again.

“Being this close and wanting you this bad is dangerous for me. Can’t you understand that?” I whisper to myself, knowing that she’s fast asleep and won’t hear me.

I knew sharing a roof over our heads could become a distraction that I didn’t need. But I hadn’t anticipated that by the second night of her being here, we’d be sharing a bed.

I’m now playing in dangerous territory, and I need a way out immediately.

Brynn

In my dream, I hear Seven’s voice call out to me.

“I’ve got you Brynn… I won’t let go.”

“Go back to sleep. You’re safe with me.”

I feel his warm arms wrap around me, and a feeling of instant relief and safety comes over me.

I can’t tell where my dreams and reality meld, but even without opening my eyes, I know that I’m in Seven’s bed. The room and the pillow I’m lying on all smell like him.

Like his body wash but also that masculine smell of salt, sweat and deodorant mixed with a light smell of peppermint mouthwash

Smelling him all around me in the safety of his arms lulls me back to sleep each time I wake to the sound of something loud outside.

I’ve never felt safer in a storm than I do with Seven.

Not even with Daniel.

The realization sends a small sense of panic through me but it was only one night. There’s no way I can tell that from only one night.

When Daniel told me that I was going to be okay in the deep darkness of that basement in Oklahoma, I wanted to believe him, but I knew he was just as vulnerable and helpless as I was. But when Seven said it last night… I almost immediately believed that Seven could hold back a storm with his bare hands. That he would stop the winds from tearing the house apart and that he’d shield me if the roof came down around us.

How could a stranger who wants me out of his life make me feel safer than the man who loves me?

I groan awake, wishing to stay asleep a little longer but the storm winds aren’t near as loud as they used to be and my curiosity to replace out if the worst of the storm is over has my eyes fluttering awake.

The moment my eyes open, I notice where I am.

In my room.

There’s no more masculine smell of the man who stayed up all night, keeping my panic attack at bay, besides the lingering smell of him on my skin and clothes.

Disappointment sets in first, and then a sense of embarrassment when I realize that not only did Seven probably not sleep a wink in order to coddle a grown woman out of her fear of storms, but he moved her back into her own bed the moment he got the chance.

When will I ever stop humiliating myself in front of this man?

The answer is unclear.

I rub my hand over my face and brush away the sleep crusties from the corners of my eyes.

I hear the phone that’s lying next to me on the nightstand begin to ding wildly. I must have gotten reception just now, and texts are flooding in.

I reach for my phone when I realize that it’s no longer plugged in to the battery bank that was here last night. I open Sheridan’s text first, though the excitement of seeing Daniel’s text is almost too tempting not to check first.

Sheridan: You’re staying with Seven Wrenley? Please tell me he’s as gorgeous in real life as he is on the television screen.

Sheridan: I’m glad to hear that the storm will pass soon. I’m sorry you’re having such a crappy time, but maybe you can use this inspiration for the book.

I tap to reply and start typing out a text to her.

Brynn: Well, I’ll tell you this… he’s just as grumpy in person as he seems to be on the television screen. He’s not faking that “give-no-fucks” attitude. It’s 100% authentic.

Sheridan: Tell me more. As a completely uninterested married party who can only live vicariously through you, I need to know the details.

Sheridan: How did you hold up last night? I was worried about you. Did you get any sleep?

Brynn: I ended up having a panic attack. Which is really disappointing since I haven’t had one in years. Seven heard me in the other room and carried me into bed with him. I think he thought I was going into shock. I’m mortified!

I still can’t believe that happened last night.

He probably thinks I’m a total nut job, and I can’t exactly blame him.

Sheridan: You slept with Seven last night?! Are you kidding? You need to use this in your story. This is gold!!!

It doesn’t feel like gold.

It feels like a mistake.

This whole plan to come out here and face my fears feels like a mistake.

For just a moment last night, making dinner in the kitchen together, it felt like we found common ground, but then I went and made things even more awkward than ever.

I don’t blame him for disposing of me back to my room as soon as he got the chance. He probably thinks I’m a train wreck.

Brynn: It’s not the kind of “sleeping” you have in mind. I made a complete fool out of myself, and now I don’t know how I’m going to face him this morning.

I see a call coming through.

It’s the first time that I’ve had reception long enough to answer a call.

Sheridan calling…

“Hi—” I start but Sheridan cuts me off immediately.

“Brynn! He’s totally into you. What else has happened while you’ve been there?” she asks.

She wouldn’t be saying that if she saw the way he scowls at me.

“Nothing. Except that he saw me naked in the shower when I screamed bloody murder when the lights went out and he rushed in thinking I was in trouble.”

“Oh, poor you. A big, manly hockey player keeps coming to your rescue. You’re right, that must be so unbearable for you.”

Maybe… just maybe, I can see how this might sound to someone on the outside. That Seven keeps replaceing ways of saving me. But she’s not here to see how he never smiles at me or how he risked his life out in high winds just to avoid being inside the house with me.

He’s tried to place me with two different friends without any success and I could tell by the look on his face how disappointed he was to be stuck with me still.

“I’m telling you, this guy can barely stand me binging here.”

“At the very least, he’s giving you great material for your book. Your writer’s block should be cured by now. The way you described the first brother, Colston, in this new series, he’s got that Seven Wrenley energy written all over him. He seems cold and needs a warm woman to thaw him. You can work with this.”

She isn’t wrong.

Colston, my male character in the first book, has that smoldering personality. He’s the tattooed brother who rides back into town on his motorcycle after getting a letter from a lawyer stating that he has five half-brothers whom he never knew about.

“Maybe if I squint really hard, I can replace some kind of inspiration,’ I say sarcastically.

“That’s the attitude,” she teases. “Go get him, tiger.”

“Wish me luck. I’m going to replace Seven, apologize for last night and then get back to writing. If you haven’t heard from me in twenty-four hours, I probably died from embarrassment. Don’t bother sending out a recovery team.”

“So we’ve decided on the dramatic route… good. I’m glad to see we’re taking the mature course of action.”

If she were in my shoes, she would understand how bad this whole thing is.

She isn’t staying with a man who has seen her completely naked and held her all night because of a panic attack.

“You know me so well.”

“Keep me posted on your writing whenever you get reception. I’d love daily updates on your word count. And if you get lucky enough to have internet access, send me any new chapters you can.”

Sheridan is my agent and not the editor that my publisher uses, but she’s highly invested in my success, and I love the notes she gives me during my first round of drafts.

“I will, I promise.”

“You got this girl. I believe in you. Never forget that. This story is going to flow out of you. You just need to replace what inspires you to write about love again. I know that’s hard right now.”

She’s right.

I love Daniel so much, and it seems like it’s far easier to write about love when you’re in it—when you feel it.

“You’re right.”

“Love ya, sweetie,” she says.

“Love you too.”

Then I hear her click off of the phone.

I know she’s right, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I pull up my texts and see Daniel’s text.

Fiance: You’re staying with some guy? I don’t like the sound of this. Who is he? Has he tried anything with you?

Fiance: Call me as soon as you can.

Fiance: I don’t care what time of the night it is.

This is the first time I’ve seen this many texts in a row from Daniel since he left town.

My heart flutters seeing his concern for me.

I understand that we decided to take a break, but it feels like he’s been more distant and distracted during our phone conversations ever since he left. I know that they have him working long hours to get everything ready before they leave and head back to the States.

I just hope that when he gets back home and we start again from where we left off, everything will be back to normal.

I know he said to call, but it has to be at least one a.m. I don’t want to wake him, though it’s tempting to hear his voice. Instead, I draft up a text.

Brynn: I’m safe. The storm blew through last night. It should be passing at this point. And don’t worry, the house owner is the goalie for the Seattle Hawkeyes, and he’s been very accommodating. The guy is practically a doomsday prepper. We have everything we need.

I see my parent’s text and shoot out a quick text to both of them as well.

I should call, I know, but I want to get this apology out of the way first and get something to eat. I’m starving, and I know my mom will keep me on the phone for as long as she can.

I walk out of my room and head for the kitchen, not bothering to change out for the t-shirt and pajama shorts that he’s already seen me in. I need a cup of hot tea at least before I can function today.

I don’t hear Seven moving around in the kitchen as I walk down the hallway.

Could he still be asleep?

He was up most of the night attending to me, but I heard him snoring at one point when I stirred awake in the middle of the night.

The moment I walk into the kitchen, I see a plate covered in foil sitting on an open notebook at the end of the countertop next to the black battery bank that he gave me to use.

I pull a corner of the foil back and steam billows out from under it. The food is still hot.

Scrambled eggs and french toast this time.

My stomach growls with hunger.

I pull the plate off the notebook to read the note that Seven left for me.

Brynn-

I went out to assess the damages on both houses and start repairs. I’ll be out all day, so you’ll have the house to yourself to write.

We still don’t have power besides the generator, but I charged the battery bank for you. You should have power on your laptop all day, and there’s enough power for you to take a shower if you want.

I saved you some breakfast.

He lists his phone number at the bottom of the note for emergencies. I save his contact information in my phone… just in case.

A shower, a fully charged battery, and french toast.

Yep, this man thinks of everything.

He must have taken the battery when he carried me back to my bed this morning and charged it while I was sleeping.

I realize that he didn’t say anything about last night in the note, and I appreciate that he didn’t call me out, but does this mean that we’re just going to pretend that it didn’t happen?

And did he sneak out early this morning just to avoid me again?

I can’t worry about that now since there’s no discussing it right now with him anyway, and I need to get back to writing. I wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably a lot to do outside after last night. He probably has his work cut out for him.

I need to eat, shower, and then get back to work.